


stress test

by Anirrahn



Series: To Fell and Back [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 12:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anirrahn/pseuds/Anirrahn
Summary: Sometimes, no matter how much you do, no matter how hard you work, it just doesn't seem like it's enough.





	stress test

**Author's Note:**

> For [StuffedArt](http://stuffedart.tumblr.com) who is fantastic and was having a lot of Papyrus feels~ ;u; Here's some fluffy fellbros for bad times :')

It’s a rare day that his brother comes home quietly.

That’s not to say that his brother is _incapable_ of being quiet—though sometimes it’s a matter of debate—but Papyrus is always a force to be reckoned with no matter what he does. He cooks with zest, he cleans with vigor, he fights with intensity and he enters a room in a way that makes all heads turn and look.

So, it’s saying something that Sans doesn’t notice that Papyrus is home until he sees his brother’s shoes set neatly by the door.

He blinks at them, bewildered. He’d gotten up only a minute ago to go get a snack from the kitchen and it seemed like Papyrus had not only silently entered into their home in the meantime, but wordlessly went upstairs as well. Sans frowns.

That’s unlike him.

With concern welling in his soul, Sans puts his snacks down onto the couch—Papyrus’ll probably be upset about the mess later—and heads up the stairs.

The door to his brother’s room is ajar.

He knocks anyway, “Pap?”

When his brother doesn’t answer, Sans cracks the door open a little wider only to see his brother sitting hunched up at the edge of his bed, staring down at his feet. The lights are off, only the artificial daylight reflecting off the snow and coming in through his window there to offer any illumination at all. He steps into the room slowly, ready to leave if his brother asks him to, but Papyrus remains silent.

“Papyrus?” Sans calls out, “You okay?”

Still, Papyrus doesn’t respond and Sans has to bite down his steadily increasing worry. He approaches his brother cautiously, an anxious feeling threatening to overtake him in the silence. Once he gets close enough, he puts a hand on Papyrus’s shoulder and meets no resistance. He peers down at his brother’s face. He stops cold.

Papyrus is crying.

“Fuck, bro, what happened?”

And at last there’s a reaction.

Papyrus shakes his head and sniffles, a hand coming up to wipe away at his tears, “It’s nothing.”

“Boss, come on,” Sans jokes, taking a seat next to him, “You really expect me to believe that the Great and Terrible Papyrus is crying over nothing?”

His brother doesn’t even give him a pity laugh. Instead, it seems like he only folds further into himself, uncharacteristically eager to make himself seem small. Sans feels his soul ache.

“Bro, please. Just tell me.”

“It’s hard to explain.” Papyrus croaks.

“So’s theoretical physics,” he quips, “But that’s never kept me from droning on about it anyways.”

And Papyrus doesn’t smile at that either, but he uncoils a little from the ball he’s trying to make himself into. That’s still a win in Sans’ book. He shifts closer to his brother, leaning a little into his side.

“Hey… you know I’m here for you, right?”

After a moment, Papyrus leans a little back onto him.

“I’m just… so _tired_ , Sans.”

Sans holds back his automatic urge to tell his brother to take a nap.

This isn’t about sleep—not really.

This close, Sans can recognize a weary weight in his brother’s posture that reads exhausted on a much more familiar level.

“What brought this on…?” He whispers.

“Nothing, really…” At Sans’ skeptical look, Papyrus sighs, “Just caught some kids today. They were stealing from the innkeeper.”

“What? What’s she got that a kid would want?”

“Cinnabuns,” Papyrus says, browbones furrowing, “From her sister.”

“Oh.”

He waits for Papyrus to continue but he doesn’t. It’s fine though. Sans has already pieced together what this is about.

“… were they orphans?”

Papyrus shrinks down again and Sans knows that it’s because this whole encounter hits a little too close to home, “Maybe. They were certainly dirty enough for it… and no one came to their rescue when I scared them straight, so…”

“You yelled at ‘em?”

“Yeah.”

“Probably made ‘em apologise too, huh?”

“Yeah…”

“And then what?”

Papyrus looks up at him, finally making eye contact. His sockets are still brimming with unshed tears and his whole face looks wrecked with fatigue, “What do you mean?”

“After you did your whole guard shtick,” Sans says, “What did you do?”

“I…” Papyrus looks away again, “I-I took them to the shopkeeper.”

“What for?”

His brother flushes, “To… buy them cinnabuns…”

And there are a hundred things Sans can say here—a hundred things he _wants_ to say. Because they’ve been those kids before. Because they’ve grown up. Because his brother is still kind and warm and deserving of the best things life deigns to give them.

It’s hard to sum all that up in a few words though, and he struggles to find the right words.

“You’re a good person, Pap.” He whispers, quiet but no less earnest.

Papyrus leaps to his feet, “That sort of thing doesn’t _matter_!”

The tears are freely flowing down his face now, frustration losing the battle to age old sorrow and Papyrus’s expression twisting into something wobbly and uncertain. His whole form is trembling, his magic flickering in static-y wisps off of him as his emotions become too difficult to contain. Sans watches on silently.

“What _good_ is all of this, Sans? What _good_ have I brought into the world when I’m so fucking caught up in being _selfish_?”

Sans frowns, “You’re not selfish, bro.”

“What _else_ would you call it?” Papyrus demands, “How long have I been a guard, Sans? How long have I been in a position to help kids like them but done nothing more than what was necessary to keep _us_ safe?”

“Papyrus, you can’t be everywhere at once,” Sans pacifies, voice firm, “No one person can fix the whole world. Even _you_ have limits.”

“That’s what makes it worse!” Papyrus’s shoulders slump, defeated. He looks shaky and Sans reflexively stands up in case he needs to catch his brother from dropping to his knees, “What… what can I even _do_? I could work all day and not even make a dent in the corruption plaguing the Underground. Nothing’s changed from when we were kids, brother. Innocent monsters are still suffering and I’m…”

Papyrus wraps his arms around himself, gaze off to the side and cheekbones wet with tears.

He shivers, “I-I’m so tired of it, Sans. I’m tired of feeling so _hopeless_.”

Sans is reaching out towards his brother before he even thinks.

Papyrus chokes on a sob as Sans puts his arms around his brother’s waist and pulls him in close, face pressed to his chest. He can feel Papyrus shake a little harder, his tears dripping down onto his skull. He squeezes tighter, hugging his brother till Papyrus brings his own arms around Sans and grips desperately onto his jacket.

“It’s not—it’s not hopeless, Pap,” Sans says and his brother’s phalanges tremble where they hold onto him. It makes his soul hurt and he stumbles through his racing thoughts, trying to console his brother over an issue that he himself has been suffering with for ages, “Sometimes I also feel like—b-but that doesn’t mean—you can’t—you shouldn’t think like that, bro.”

Papyrus doesn’t call him out on his stuttering, just clenches his sockets shut, expression pained, “I-I feel so… I’m just so _useless_ , I-I—”

And that, at least, Sans has a solid answer for, “You’re not useless, Papyrus. Do you have any idea how _amazing_ you are?”

His brother shakes his head, “Sans, I’m—”

“If it wasn’t for you, I’d never get to work on time,” Sans starts and, despite himself, a smile works its way onto his face, “If it wasn’t for you, I’d sleep the entire day away.”

Papyrus’s grip on him tightens further.

Sans bounds on, “I’d hardly ever clean. I wouldn’t bother to leave the house. The only time I would, it’d probably be to go drinking at Grillby’s. And what would happen after I inevitably passed out there, huh? I’d have no one to carry me home.”

“Sans…”

“You’re not useless, Pap. I need you,” he backs away a little from his brother then, pokes a finger meaningfully at the Delta Rune on Papyrus’s uniform, “And I doubt I’m the only one who feels that way.”

Papyrus sniffles, tears still in his eyes but a watery, half-smile working its way onto his face as well, “So, that’s all I’m good for, huh? Picking up after you?”

“Nah, it’s less that and more like there’s no task too small for the Great and Terrible Papyrus.”

His brother lets out a startled bark of a laugh, tears spilling over as a true smile stretches across his teeth. Sans smiles back, warm, and Papyrus pulls him in for another hug. They lean into each other, quiet and close, his brother’s head resting on top of his and Sans’ against his chest. When Papyrus pulls away again, he’s looking a little steadier; his eyelights a little clearer.

“I’m sorry for making such a spectacle of myself over nothing.”

“Well, I mean, you are pretty _spectacular_ so…”

Papyrus huffs in exasperation, rolling his eyelights, “Don’t be an asshole, I’m trying to show my gratitude.”

Sans laughs, “It’s fine, bro. Just come downstairs and watch some bad TV with me, yeah?”

“Okay,” Papyrus says, wiping the last of the tears from his face, “I’ll get the refreshments.”

“Not necessary, Boss. I got you covered.”

His brother eyes him suspiciously, “… don’t tell me you dumped snacks all over our couch again.”

“Alright, I won’t tell you.”

“ _Sans!_ We have trays for a _reason!!_ ”

He winks at his brother and takes his hand, pulling him out of the room with a grin on his face, “Hey, ‘no task too small’, right?”

“Ugh, I hate you.”

Sans squeezes his brother’s hand affectionately, “Love you too, bro.”

And when Papyrus squeezes his hand right back, following him down the stairs, there’s a pulse of happiness in his soul. Suddenly, the world seems just a little less hopeless.


End file.
